Frozen Bluebonnets
by Kat Dakuu
Summary: Set toward the end of the Cold War, The two weary nations decide to share with each other the things that are worth saving rather than destroying. It sets them on the way to disarm their countries.


Frozen Bluebonnets

Alfred gripped the red phone tightly, his back curved, but still. His fingers, only his fingers moved as his grip grew so tight the phone shook in them. Alfred sat like that, five minutes, or maybe ten. The clock in the little office long since ceased to tick. When he couldn't take the silence any longer, he dialed the familiar number.

"Amerika. It's been weeks since you last called. Do you wish to discuss your latest capitalist misadventures?" Ivan answered, his voice filled with false cheer, but also with heaviness and irritability. When tensions first started between them, his voice remained cheerful like his smiling mask, even when he threatened the lives of others. Things changed though. They changed for Ivan and they changed for Alfred. The same heaviness hung in the young blonde's voice as he spoke.

"Do you want to come visit me?" His shoulders stayed slumped because he didn't have the strength—and some days the will—to hold himself high. He wasn't even at war, so why did he feel this way? He shouldn't have the right to, but he was just so damn tired of hating.

The silence on the line lasted long enough for Alfred to finish slumping over on top of his president's desk, head pillowed in his arms and phone cradled against his ear. "You've gone insane?" Ivan's voice curled through the air, soft. Alfred's eyes fluttered before falling closed. He liked that softness and he couldn't remember the last time he heard it. Maybe in a dream. But Ivan sounded surprised, without anger or condescension.

"Maybe," Alfred whispered back, just as soft. "But I want to show you something."

"I do not think this is a good idea," Ivan sighed. But he didn't immediately say no. "Our bosses will never allow it." Really, that wasn't a no at all.

Alfred whined low in the back of his throat, though he told himself it wasn't a whine at all. It was a sound of longing and of resignation all in one. His voice calling out. Blue eyes blinked open again, but real words refused to form in his mind, let alone his voice. How could he rightfully say what he wanted to past all his pride and self-restraint that existed even now after years of a cold war? Alfred knew he had too little rest and one nightmare too many, and maybe a little to drink in hopes it would bring sleep. He was weak now. He was _showing_ this to the enemy, but Ivan had been the enemy so long he couldn't remember why they fought. He was just so damn tired of hating.

After so much silence, Ivan decided he wouldn't get a response. He sighed again and caved. "I will visit you, Alfred. A little…warm air will do me some good." And then he hung up and left the younger blonde to his silent misery which he would probably regret. Ivan wasn't stupid enough to miss how out of character the call was. Alfred would take back tonight's conversation and that would be that, like so many other almost such moments during the long years since he met Alfred—but never during this war—Ivan reminded himself. Alfred stayed resolute and taunting during the war, except today. Today he was not resolute and Ivan forgot to be as well.

The arranged meeting came soon enough, having never been taken back. The Alfred that met Ivan at a private airstrip smiled with all the youthful and callous energy of America before they started off. The boy who called Moscow in the middle of the night no longer existed except in a shadow inside those ever blue eyes. Ivan said nothing. Alfred kept his own silence as they walked out into the late spring sunshine. The day started as awkward as either expected and continued along that path, growing tenser, but not quieter as it progressed. The buzz of constant motion matched the young American's mouth, never closing for more than one minute, though Ivan rarely responded. That continued until evening light tinted the sky a brilliant blue, like the one that sometimes shone after a thunderstorm. Now at their final destination, Alfred fell silent and still.

The bluebonnets swayed in a slight breeze, the sea of blue and violets made more vibrant by the orangey-reds of the Indian paintbrushes that clustered near them. Ivan glanced over at Alfred, his brow furrowed in confusion when the American didn't drop off into a monologue about the location. "Why did you bring me here?" He growled with something between frustration and confusion. "Or to your sparkling oceans or to anywhere else we've been today?"

Alfred didn't answer immediately. He spent a minute transfixed by his beautiful landscape. When he closed his eyes, he felt himself become part of it. The wind ruffled his hair and he was a bluebonnet. The sun warmed him until he gained the sunny glow of a paintbrush. Only when the stare of icy eyes broke the spell did he open his own once more. "To share what you would destroy if the war did start. All of this...gone. Gray, twisted, gone." He tore his eyes away to lock onto the other man's purple gaze which only stared at him, not the fields. "Please don't destroy this."

For one brief second, the smile Ivan offered him looked real, not a plastered on mask or a sick grin. He turned to the flowers and soaked them up. "They really are beautiful." A second later, his expression darkened into what Alfred grew to expect these past years of the Cold War. "But they do not make me love your country. The things you have, I do not. You take this beauty for granted. You hoard it because you do not have to fight Russian winters. You can tell me your home is worth saving? But what about mine? You would not say the same of my Russia so what is to stop you from attacking me? No, I think I will keep my missiles."

"Stop!" Alfred's fingers twisted in Ivan's sleeve before he felt himself move. He pulled back, twisting his hands in front of himself instead. "I mean, what's to say I won't find your country beautiful? You haven't even...shown me." Asking himself over? No, why did it sound more like begging? But he dreaded the flash Ivan's eyes often got, as if they gave birth to nightmares of nuclear fallout. But didn't they? As strong as Alfred was and as little as he liked to back down, he wanted this war to be over. He thought Ivan felt the same.

"It will be winter soon." Ivan's voice dropped again, his eyes warm. "Even now would be too cold for you." But they already moved closer so that Ivan's scarf brushed Alfred's arm. He didn't show it, but he also tired of this war. Russia was strong though. He'd never show weakness to an enemy, let alone a young nation who knew nothing of struggles. It was why Ivan believed he would win if it came to war. But at what cost?

Alfred nodded. He could not be discouraged now. "You forget I have Alaska now. I've been to Canada in the winter. I know what the cold feels like." The memory left him looking at the sky, a distant smile on his face. When he looked away again, he found Ivan staring at him, something like awe on his face.

"My winter is not like theirs."

"I can take it. Let me see for myself, Ivan."

They started at each other for a full minute, both barely blinking. Finally, Ivan's face settled into its usual mask and he gave a short nod. "Alright. We will go to Russia at the start of winter and then you shall see. Which of our countries is more worth keeping…we shall see."

xXx

"America, you're dressed too warmly," Ivan complained. The blonde youth flipped him the third and wrapped his scarf around one more time. The cool wind ruffled their hair and tightened Alfred's scarf too much so he had to unwrap it again.

"Whatever. You're the one who warned me about your winter. Where to first?"

Ivan bit his tongue to keep from snapping something harsh back. They were trying to get along, yes? He gestured with one hand to the city lying beyond the airport. "I thought we'd start in Moscow…"

Just like when Alfred showed him his sights, the boy talked incessantly. Ivan could at least tell he paid attention in his own sort of way. It'd start out well with Alfred staring wide-eyed and attentive, then less than a third of the way through Ivan's explanation, Alfred would cut in with, "Oh, what's that!?" And they'd be off to something else. Ivan would open his mouth to answer, but Alfred flitted off yet again. It made his planning seem like a silly notion. Eventually Ivan gave up and they took a train ride into the far north of his land because Alfred 'wanted to freeze his butt off as promised'.

They arrived in the the last station just as the sun slid out of its low arc to rest on the horizon. The air had a strange glow though, still alight with energy. The little streets looked forgotten in the twilight with nothing but a feeble flicker to light their way. Before long, they left the light altogether. Wrapped up in their coats as best they could, Ivan led the way into the forest with naught but a lantern. Here, darkness reigned as king.

Branches snapped in the very near distance and Alfred eyed the black husks of trees. "You're not secretly leading me to my death are you? That would work out well for you wouldn't it? You could even call it an accident!" He laughed high and nasally. Ivan only grinned, his eyes sparkling. He pulled back a hidden branch and waited for Alfred to walk into reach before he let the branch fly. All the youth saw was a black claw flying for his face and he shrieked, flailing backwards onto the snowy, leaf-laden ground. When he heard Ivan chuckling with a childish grin on his face, Alfred scowled. He picked himself up and glared, but otherwise did nothing to his enemy. Doing so would admit that Ivan's trick scared him. Instead, he just mouthed, 'Go die' behind his back.

Ivan continued on, still stifling his amusement behind a hand. That really did get his mood up. He should play with America far more often. "Well, I admit this would be a very good place to kill you, but it was not my intention. If I kill you, it shall be on the international stage. I'd rather own up to my victories."

Alfred huffed and crossed his arms as much to show his irritation as warm his gloved fingers. "I didn't drag you anywhere dangerous. This isn't fair."

"Oh?" Ivan raised an eyebrow. "What do you call those jellyfish littering your beaches? Portuguese man-o-war?!" He whined as if sharing the most heinous incident, though the beach had been a beautiful sight, even—or maybe because—the translucent corpses covered it.

"It's not my fault they washed up there." Alfred huffed. "They're only dangerous if you step on them!"

Ivan responded as if speaking of clothing advice instead of deadly things. "And wolves are only dangerous if they catch you." His grin held a sharpness that reminded Alfred very much of the wolves that might be lurking outside the lantern's glow.

He shuddered and held back for a second. He shouldn't have come to Russia after all because one way or another, he would get eaten. America did not back down though especially when he started this. He would very well finish it. It really was too cold though. Alfred said he could deal with it, but his body decided the time to go home came and went minutes ago. "No seriously, why are we here? I think I could see snow without trekking miles!"

"For this," Ivan gestured ahead as they escaped the forest. A wide clearing spread out in front of them and the intensity of it hit them. For a second, Ivan struggled to speak because there was just so much nothing here. So much untouched even by the hungry creatures that lurked in the woods. "Don't you hear it? The silence? This is like the bluebonnets you showed me, yes? A pristine field of _nothing._"

Alfred stared ahead with not even a puff of air showing in front of his face. He didn't blink or breathe until Ivan turned eyes to him. Then it all came out in a one worded sigh. "Beautiful." His soft smile rivaled the one Ivan wore when looking at that field of bluebonnets. Such a perfect scene defied touching so neither made a move to step foot into that snow. For a minute, they both just stared over that expanse. It ended not far away in a cliff tinted blue and eerily bright in the light of the full moon. Nothing hindered the light of the stars this far away from people and the corner of sky they could see glittered like something from a dream.

After a long time of stillness, a gust of wind made Ivan shiver. Not because of the cold, but because of the smell that wind brought with it—snow. He grabbed Alfred's arm, eyes wide with alarm. "We should leave!" He started dragging the other away before he could figure out how to make his own legs work.

"Wait, why? We haven't been here that long!" Alfred gasped. He gathered his ability to walk and stalled them, though he couldn't pull his arm away. "I mean, if you're worried about me getting cold, I told you-"

"Shut up!" Ivan snapped. And Alfred did, surprised to hear the harsh tone so unlike his sick happiness or the tolerant silence of today. "It's about to get much colder." On cue, snow flurried through the air and Ivan hurried off again. Storms gathered so quickly here and barely a minute after clear skies, the air could be choked with so much white you couldn't see your own feet. Being Russia, he knew this storm would be exactly that kind. He searched about with his eyes and quickly evaluated they wouldn't reach the town before blizzard conditions made travel impossible. He knew this area though and another option existed, though a less pleasant one. "Quick, there's a cabin a minute from here. We can hole up there."

They moved at a pace just shy of a run as the cold increased. Snow filled the air as the wind tried to rip their clothes away. Alfred silently praised himself for insisting on his thickest jacket and scarf. His boots however lacked in the same quality. He felt wetness seeping inside to soak his socks. He wanted to pause and do something about it, but he feared if he let go of Ivan's hand, he'd be screwed. Ivan would just leave him and he wasn't stupid enough to think he could survive a blizzard alone. He'd leave that kind of stupidity to the Russian man. The visibility grew so bad he'd never catch sight of Ivan again if they parted. The only reason they made it to the cabin was because Ivan knew his countryside.

Ivan kicked open the door and shoved Alfred inside. He locked it behind then tossed aside his clothes except the last layer. As expected, the cabin didn't offer much, but it had a fireplace and wood ready inside the door. He bent down to start the fire while Alfred dripped all over the hardwood. He appeared frozen to the floor and Ivan chided him. "You'll be warmer when you take off those soggy clothes and for gods sake, get those boots off unless you want to lose your toes!" Ivan may not have been able to die by his country's weather, but he saw it kill and maim enough of his people. He knew everything there was to know about surviving the cold and he really did find blizzards most unpleasant.

When Ivan tossed a blanket at Alfred, he finally snapped out of his trance. He stripped down to his boxers and the two laid their clothes to dry on the hearth. Together they huddled under the blankets and furs Ivan found, as near to the fire as safe. Ivan tended to the flames with a dull stare. He could think of better ways to spend a blizzard than trapped with his enemy. Still, another body added an extra heat to the room.

"Well…this didn't go like planned…" Ivan muttered. Alfred only hummed in response before he fell asleep in the warm glow of the fire.

xXx

Ivan grunted as he felt a kick to his side. Not a harsh one, just movement that barely pulled him into wakefulness. He started to drift off again until he realized the significance of his side growing colder. He blinked his eyes open to watch thickly socked feet shove themselves into his boots. Somewhere in the muddle of his mind, he considered this to be a very strange sight. Someone was stealing his shoes. Ivan rolled onto his stomach and eyed the cold fireplace with distaste then turned in time to see Alfred tiptoe over to the door.

_Oh, he__'__s running away while he still can. Good for him. I wish I could run away from here too._

Alfred grabbed the door handle just as Ivan's eyes went wide. If he opened that then all of that blizzard would get inside! "Wait! The snow-" But Ivan spoke up too late. Alfred flung open the door and piles of snow collapsed into the room. Ivan didn't much care for it, but surely the other man would get angry or dissatisfied and their good relations would end once again. The door jumped out of Alfred's hand and he stared at it in surprise. Ivan sighed. "You can't leave with this much snow on the ground."

Alfred paid him no mind. Really, he should have expected that. America was a pig-headed nation prone to doing exactly what he'd been told not to, so why wouldn't Alfred be the same? Least of all should he listen to Ivan. Alfred suddenly burst out with laughter and jumped through the doorway. He sounded insane. Thinking he should make sure the boy didn't die in the snow, Ivan shuffled to the doorway, wrapped in the blanket and shoeless. He caught sight of a gold and grey blur before snow splattered all over him.

Ivan made a face and opened his mouth to complain, but stopped when Alfred emerged from a snow drift, laughing with his arms outstretched. His blue eyes sparkled so like a child's and how long had it been since he saw those eyes? Alfred didn't wear his glasses and like this, Ivan could forget they were nearly at war. No, this was the youth who once shook his hand with a smile. When had that all gone away? Ivan forgot he once _liked _Alfred. That he used to think of him without seeing his face splattered in blood or burning in a mushroom cloud. Such had been his daydreams for years. It never occurred to him that such daydreams were wrong, but now he hated to think he became that person. This Cold War just made him so weary that he begged to end it any way he could.

"Wow, you have so much snow!" Alfred exclaimed, finally dragging Ivan's attention back to reality. "I bet I can stand in this snowdrift upright! That's so cool. I'm gonna try!" He jumped feet first into a mound pushed up against the little cabin and only then did Ivan realize Alfred wore a plain jacket rather than his military one. Ivan too didn't wear his red army coat. Ah, so that's how it was. A laugh bubbled out from him. He traipsed out into the snow, not caring that his bare toes burned at the touch. The sensation felt wonderful after so long of just numbness.

"Your curl is sticking up," he chuckled before pushing down the blonde strand that grew like a blade of grass out of the snow. "There. You do fit." For extra measure, he dumped a handful of snow on top of Alfred's head to cover up the hole he left behind.

"Amerzinn!" his muffled cry filtered out. The snow trembled, then Alfred jumped out and rained slush onto Ivan all over again. When the white fluff settled again, Ivan found them standing a foot apart, both shaking just a little, and very covered in snow. Alfred tilted his eyes up to take in the icicles hanging from the roof. They glittered like sculptures and the expression Alfred wore looked too unlike him. He stared, hushed and neither frowning nor grinning at the landscape. Ivan thought he looked at peace and his sigh, awed.

The winter wonderland long ago ceased to evoke that emotion in Ivan, but looking at Alfred right then, the feeling came back. He felt awed that Alfred could look at his country with so much delight. He realized right then, they shouldn't go to war. Too much _was _at stake, for both of them.

Alfred shuffled closer and pointed to the icicles. Fat drops of water slid along them to pool on the doorstep. "It's warming up."

Ivan smiled and watched those water droplets for a second, then he turned to Alfred and ushered him back inside. "Yes, you will be able to leave soon." They shouldn't be playing in the snow in the first place, but Ivan couldn't bring himself to regret it. He padded inside and shook off the snow. When he turned back, he saw Alfred hesitating in the doorway.

"Promise me this won't be the last time I see you," Alfred whispered. His eyes darted down, darkening once again into the eyes of one at war. The hard set of his jaw offset the trembling of his fingers. If war happened, it would be the end of one of them. Ivan didn't think about that though. He just thought they never saw each other even before this conflict and wasn't that a damn shame?

"I promise." They closed the door on that wonderland and dried off as the snow melted. Then Alfred left and Ivan watched the plane go, his mind whirling with a new revelation. _I think maybe, it__'__s time for me to change. I want to become the sort of person that can be friends with this man._

After that day, the two didn't meet for months. They agreed to lessen their aggressions and just like that, the impending war started to wind down. Ivan vanished from the world as his country underwent its changes. Alfred waited patiently. Even when others assumed he died along with the Soviet Union, Alfred knew he would come back again. He'd reshape himself and when he was ready, they would meet. Ivan promised him.

The chance finally came in mid January. A late snow took the city of New York and Alfred arrived at the world meeting ten minutes early to set up. He rushed in the door with his jacket pulled over his head and a scarf untying around his neck. He clutched his bag to keep the snow off of it before he looked around. The darkness and quiet reminded him of ghost stories for a minute and he shuddered, though that might have been because a clump of half-melted snow slid down his neck. The conference room's light shone through a half open door. Confused, Alfred pushed it open all the way.

A man stood in the window, watching the snow. His pale blonde locks plastered to his head in a state of dampness, having recently left the snow. He wore unfamiliar clothes, but the mauve scarf around his neck hadn't changed at all. Ivan turned and smiled with the same brilliance as the full moon. "Hello Amerika. I'm back."

With care, Alfred set aside his bag, took off his soggy coat, and stepped forward. "Hello Russian Federation." The soft smile he wore matched the snow. He offered his hand and Ivan shook it, smiling back. Before he could end the shake, Alfred yanked him into a hug. The two stood there together with Alfred clinging like a small child and Ivan just letting him. Snow fell outside in the last storm of the winter. When Alfred finally let him go it was with his usual smile. "It's so good to see you again, Ivan…my friend."

Ivan patted his back in an awkward return of the hug. So this is what it felt like to have someone wait for you. _Warm. _"And I am glad to be your friend."


End file.
